2nd Sept. 2013.
Well, wow; where to begin? It’s been such a fantastic day and despite spending the majority of my time on the coach, I have seen so many amazing things already!
It was wonderful,
to start with, how quickly all the crowded towns and cities were left behind
and countryside and farmland took their place as far as the eye could see. Many
of the late summer flowers were at their peak, with grasses and heathers
blooming as well; the result was very pretty indeed.
Then a rest stop,
which despite how comfortable the coach is overall, my bottom was very grateful
for, before the main section of the journey into Scotland itself began. This part
was mostly by motorway, so you’d have expected – or at least I did – that
things would become noisy and dirty and busy again, but they didn’t; in fact,
the scenery on either side of the huge roads actually got better. The
spaces allotted to commercial farming became smaller and the wild open areas
bigger the further on we drove; and before long the wild areas got wilder and
the large industrialized farms disappeared completely, leaving small holdings
with contented herds of sheep and/or cows loosely fenced by crumbling stone
walls into areas that at their smallest were twice the size of football fields.
Many herds simply roamed free, with no apparent restrictions at all.
The landscape
began to change as well; the reasonably flat ground becoming more and more
uneven and the small English mounds giving way to the steep slopes and rolling
hills of the North. And these stark changes only became more pronounced the
further on the coach drove, with the hills becoming giants and then mountains.
I found myself sat open mouthed and gazing upwards in awe. Something I feel
will happen a lot on this trip. Being open mouthed in awe, that is.
Clouds and mists
obscured the highest of the peaks, as though the sky above them were a lady too
shy to reveal them and choosing to genteelly hide them beneath the hem of her
billowing grey and white skirts. The land had so many contrasts of form and
colour that I didn’t know where to first look. The exposed rocks; some smooth,
some wrinkled and some jagged, jutted out in places from beneath the earth.
Some were chalk white, others dark grey, others coal black, and still more of
them a peppered mixture of two or more of the above. The trees were spattered
in sparse patches or in ones and twos in some areas and so densely carpeted in
others that you could barely see past them and certainly not through them; and
comprised of more shades of green than one would consider possible. The grass,
too, wasn’t uniform: thin to near non-existence in large patches on the sheer
slopes and lush and moist and thick lower down towards the flat; with colouring
that rivalled that of the trees.
There were
mosses, too, and lichens and ferns; spread over flat and slope alike in vast
areas and coating the ground in a blaze of colours; purples and reds and browns
and yellows.
So much was going
on for the mind to take in, and on top of that there was the water. So much
water; I had never before seen that much all at once, not least in so many
ways. It trickled determinedly through streams, babbled bubblingly through
brooks, churned turbulently in vast lochs, seeped lazily along canals and lakes,
raced rapidly along riverbeds and tumbled its way down grooves carved deep into
the mountains and hillsides in a series of narrow channels and gushing
waterfalls. It was as though there was too much liquid to be held underground,
so it spilled out of it over onto the land; for even in places with no rivers
or brooks or lochs or waterfalls you could still see it, glistening amongst the
grasses and glittering on the rocks.
The weather
meanwhile, not to be outdone by the landscape, was wildly varying too;
switching on a pin head between sunny and raining, clear and fogged and
clouded, blue skied and black. The constant swapping meant that I had the
chance to see everything, the mountains and lochs and glens – they’re not
called ‘valleys’ in Scotland ;
they are called ‘glens’ – in many more ways than I otherwise would have. Each
view was different and in it’s own way breathtaking; even when the lady of the
sky threw a sulk and flung out her skirts of cloud over the entire area,
leaving the merest hint of an outline to tell you what lay beneath.
It was all
incredibly beautiful, and I felt incredibly lucky. And blessed.
When at last we reached the hotel a part of me was
disappointed inside, as it had wanted it all to go on forever. The bulk of me,
however, no matter how nice and wonderful it had been, was relieved, as my
entire body – particularly my legs and bum – was a mixture of aching and numb.
The interior of
the hotel was nicely decorated and carpeted and altogether ‘plush’ looking, as
when I went to change for dinner, was my own cozy little room. The restaurant
was even nicer; not overdone, but with just the right amount of luxury to make
it feel terribly special.
I was escorted to
my seat by a waiter. Then another one came to take my order – I played safe
that time and ordered the soup and breaded fish with assorted vegetables – and
yet another one delivered it. There was a confusing array of cutlery that
muddled I had to be guided – thankfully gently and non judgementally – through,
but other than that the whole experience was wonderful and to make it even
better the food itself was delicious.
A simply dreamy
chocolate truffle mousse dessert followed and after that, as I had promised my
stern grandfather; I indulged just a little bit more and enjoyed a “wee dram”
of whisky – very “wee”. The price made me grip the side of the bar – sat at a
table by a huge window that overlooked the main tree lined road of Fort William
and a little further on past it part of its impressive loch, lined on the far
side by the outlines of fogged mountains.
My mind wanted
desperately after I had finished drinking to go for a walk, but my body was
even more desperate to go to sleep and in the end after a fierce battle of
wills between the two the latter won and I gave in and went to my room. I did
nip outside for just a few moments though – in spite of the rain. That drew a
few startled looks – to take a photograph of the illuminated front of the
hotel, and the darkened loch. We’ll see how well those come out. To be honest, knowing of my inability to keep my hand from moving as I press the buttons and also countering in the fast failing light, fog and pouring rain; if they are in any way recognizable then makers of the disposable cameras that Boots sells should be hailed as absolute geniuses.
And now here I
am; exhausted but oh so very happy.
Tomorrow beckons. Here’s hoping it’s as good (if not better)
than today has been…
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